


How Wrong We Were To Think That Immortality Meant Never Dying

by fueledbypeterick



Category: Centuries - Fall Out Boy (Music Video), Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz - Fandom, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Peterick, centuries, centuries au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 11:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fueledbypeterick/pseuds/fueledbypeterick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events leading up to the video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

_i._

 

55,000 breathing, roaring bodies circled around a centerpoint in the largest amphitheatre in what was rumored to be the world. Each class came together on these days to witness the same thing: entertainment by sacrifice. But, are the criminals, the poor, the outcasts considered sacrificial? Are they not equal to the audience?

 

 

Someone’s heart still has to be pumping and capable of sympathy. I cannot be the only one with my eyes uncovered.

 

These games are not being used how they were intended to be. Emperors feed on the humiliation of those chosen. The people were beginning to crave more and for the sake of approval they obliged. The government has lost its touch and refuses to do the right things to gain the trust back.

 

The vigiles, those watchmen of the city, they did nothing but breathe down the backs of hard working civilians until the slightest crime was committed. At that point, they had authority to send them to the heads of the Empire who had made pastime in deciding the fate of its own people. This is an age of corruption.

 

I spoke my mind in opposition of what was around me. I was in the air, hotheaded but nervous. I was brought to the ground and stripped of every possession I currently held. Opposition means the worst of treatment. Even the rodents were treated better than this.

 

Naked, I stood in a line of around thirty others. Exposed, irritable and before a king and his honorable men. We were given an option for our actions, which led me to believe maybe I was not alone in speaking out; immediate death or to fight for the rights back to our own lives.

 

I took my chance and spoke for the entirety of us, “Send us to your arenas! We will fight for our people. Something that Rome was built upon but has lost sight of!” I looked to my now peers, some were nodding their heads, and few were wide eyed in fear. To my right, I saw no expression coming from the face of a man that had to be hand crafted by the gods themselves. The agreeing yells muted, because I saw nothing else in the world at that moment.

 

Not a second after the background noise ceased, I was snapped out of whatever trance the fair skinned man left me in, by the king’s voice, _“You will fight well or you will die well.”_


	2. ii.

_ii._

 

We were sent into a two week training camp. Here, we were told we would learn how defend ourselves. Some didn’t need the help, some took all of it in like it would be the last bit of information they ever received. For some, it would be.

 

It wasn’t long before the man with the angelic like complexion appeared again.

 

There was a hold on my lungs, something I had yet to feel in the midst of all this. He sat alone at dinner time, not looking up from his less than satisfactory meal. The uncomfortable look on his face showed we weren’t of the same social stature. I wanted to breathe, but something inside of me was pulling my being closer to his. I felt like the closer I got to him, my chances of eating myself alive lessened.

 

“I see Apollo in you. May I call you that?”

 

The man did not raise his chin to look at me, as if he was already aware of whose presence was before him. “I have yet to be compared to such.”

 

That was painfully hard to believe. I could breathe now, but only in small spurts. Each strand of his hair was brunette at this moment, until it hit the world’s light, then it illuminated. His skin resembled marble, from what I could see. I wanted to see his eyes. I needed to see with my own eyes, his.

 

“Normally,” I began my sentence before sitting across from him, “you and I would not be sharing a meal. Am I correct?”

 

“and normally, people in Rome don’t compare others to the gods of the Greeks.”

 

I then noticed how obnoxious our differences were. I remember seeing no marks on his skin, the ones of the artistic kind and no scars of everyday life. It was like he was starting off new, fresh, granted a rebirth. I wondered if he knew that in this place, your wealth didn’t matter. My pupils searched for a flaw, anything to make me think he was anything less than sent directly from the heavens, but I failed.

 

“I know them by birth. These streets are my home.”

 

“Were your home.”

 

I did not need that realization.

 

“I will die with my blood staining them, not here. Not for the enjoyment of those fortunate bastards.” The blood was rushing to my face, heated and unforgiving.

 

“Not every fortunate soul is a dark one.” The man raised his head to lock his eyes with mine. The box that held my voice was jammed in that moment, creating no sound. The green orbs were just as I had imagined, holding the blue sea within them. If he had any intention on keeping my full attention on him, I was sold.

 

“Explain your business here.” I said this as if we were in a situation with every opportunity and right to leave this place and never return.

 

“I saw no other choice. My existence was not adding up. I acted out and was taken away before my family knew I was missing. I could not face them with my decision because they would not approve.” There was not sadness in his tone, but an absence of emotion. A sudden anger rose in me. I wanted to fight him there. I wanted to beat the notion that life is our most precious commodity into his skull. I saw myself holding him down by his shoulders, on top of him on the ground.

 

“I never planned on returning.”


	3. iii.

_iii._

 

I dreamt of him. Apollo.

 

He stood in the coliseum, arrows in the hearts of every opponent. I watched each go down without depleting any energy from his bones. He had won the admiration and hearts of the entire crowd, except for the king, who continued sending out the best trained men.

 

I watched as his frame turned to me, bow in hand, offering me the weapon. Once I took it he stood, stretching out his arms to become target-like. He wanted me to end him. Apollo had slayed each and every opponent that set foot in his way, but he had no motive to exit the arena alive. None of me wanted this. If anything, I wanted to dispose of the weapon and hold him, close enough for reassurance that we would extend our lives passed this.

 

Something pulled the string back along with the piercer. It was not of my arm’s control. I screamed, thinking that maybe I could stop the force that was determined for this to happen.

 

The middle point of symmetry, as if my arms were trained for this, is where the spike of the arrow punctured. The eyes of the sea held open, watching me as I fell to the ground along with his body. I wanted nothing more than to look away, but I was not able. This was my doing and I would sleep in the bed I made.

 

I was drenched when I woke. I could almost see the gleam of my own skin in the dark. Instead, my head continued with its show of his eyes from my slight slumber. No fear of what lies beyond death could be seen. It frightened me to know that it could be a prophecy rather than a fictional dream.

 

I did not think of him once the sun rose. Only until I saw him on the training grounds, did I remember that he was far too good to be true.

 

He was occupied with what seemed to be a king’s man, teaching him specifics on weapons. On a large table to the back of the area, everything from swords to spears to nets were available. Something told me we wouldn’t be lucky enough to make any decisions for ourselves. My guess was they would study us and see which we carried the best and choose another for our actual moment of glory.

 

Apollo looked so untouched. In more ways than one. But, I couldn’t validate the thought that no one had ever gazed upon him in a natural state. He must have had entire cities at his feet when it came to being a part of his bedroom. Sun light hair, milky thighs. I begin to notice I wouldn’t mind being a fly on that wall.

 

All the wrong thoughts in the worst of places. That was something I was good at.

 

In one of the quick glimpses I was making back at him from where I resided in front of the weapon table, I noticed rough body language coming from his trainer. Not the kind you would expect during a practice session. But, he was not fighting back. I saw all expression from his face fade, like it did the first time my eyes had the pleasure of greeting his existence.

 

My ears tuned in, only to hear the man I had dreamt about being scolded.

 

“Do you have no will to live? or are you mocking me?!” The trainer took the back of his hand and collided it with the cheek of Apollo, sending out a sound louder than any two swords clanking together on the grounds.

 

All I could see from then on was red. Whether it was from the blood gushing from the trainer’s face as I plummeted into it, or from my fists that were now cut open themselves, I couldn’t tell.


End file.
